From Here

Where do I go from here?

Loss does not fit some arbitrary framework

Assigned by society at large or social norms

Loss is not only about death, or something gone astray

Whatever form it takes, there is a weight

It sits upon your chest, a drunkard with heft

Refusing to move from a spot he's found comfortable

I just want to be free of it

To reach the weightlessness

That comes from freeing yourself

Letting the loss go and moving on

Yet, as it piles, loss upon loss

Where do I go from here?

 

Heart Break

How long does a heart break?

Lightning fast? 

Race car quick? 

Or geologically slow? 

Is there even an answer?

Does it just flow on?

Until one day, healed.

Seasons

Though it may be spring

On the verge of summer

Warmth and sun and wave

Blossoming with the flora

I am in a season of winter

The death before the rebirth

Beyond fall's color and flame

Working towards my own

Resurrection and blooming

A Cloak

I think I'm starting to understand why I have always had an affinity for winter. The cold, the desolation, the desire of people to isolate themselves all give me the space to be on my own. Regardless of how lonely I am or how alone I feel, in winter I can lean into that and just be me and feel what I want to feel. Even in a social setting like I am in at this exact moment, I can just be in the background and observe. I can be part of the scenery and am not expected to be an integral part of any conversations. There is some comfort and safety in that. The anonymity becomes a cloak. 

Fleeting

It's so damn fleeting you begin to wonder if it ever existed at all

That movement out of the corner of your eye as you hike in the woods

Mountain fog rising through the hardwoods until it meets cloud

Like that moment you remember of having love returned to you 

In the same weight and measure that you so freely gave up to them

Until they realized that you were no longer worthy and all of it

Was merely to be whispered about as great while it had lasted